


Winter's past

by orphan_account



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Death, Epic, F/M, Fix-It, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Multi, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Time Travel, heavily!!!!, if it isn't clear, the Night King wins, this is based on avengers endgame!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-02-09 10:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18636613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After the Night King won the battle for the Dawn, Jon and the other survivors must find a way to stop the Night King before he can destroy the rest of the world. In their attempts, they come up with a plan that could solve all their problems... Time travel.Spoilers for Game of Thrones and EndgameBased on Avengers: Endgame





	1. Totally Fine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Avengers: Endgame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion arrives with grave news; Jon plans his next attack; Jaime gets ready for war; The board is set, and the pieces are moving.

This was it... The End

Jon sat on a slab of marble that overlooked the rough waves of the narrow sea. He was currently on the outskirts of Bravos, he's been taken there for refuge, while the Night King rolled over anyone and everyone who stood in his way. Westeros is lost to the clutches of the dead. 

The sun that looked down on the defeated king was setting fast, it barely rose anymore. The nights can last for days at a time, giving everyone nightmares at the coming years of failed crops and starvation to come. A rogue tear rolled out of his stormy eyes and down his pale cheek. He remembered what he had lost in the battle for the dawn, his brother, his friends, his people... and the love of his life with an unborn child inside her. 

"I thought I would find you up here," a voice called out from behind him. As Jon turned to face the new arrival, he spotted Arya slowly making her way to his position.

Quickly wiping away his tears, Jon spoke up, "I was just counting how long the sun has been up."

Arya looked at her half-brother with a sad frown, before making her way around the slab of marble and setting herself down next to Jon. "You know, it's okay to cry." Jon closed his eyes and choked back a sob before looking away from Arya and back out to sea. "The world has almost come to an end, I think if you don't cry at least once, you're a psychopath." 

"So, have you cried?" Jon asked as he glanced over at the small assassin. 

"Oh, no. I'm definitely a psychopath," Arya said with a smile making both the half-siblings laugh. 

"Well, I'm glad you can still find the light within all this darkness," Jon said with a small sad smile. Arya smiled back before resting her head on his shoulder and looking out upon the waves. They stayed that way for a few minutes as the sun started to set once more. "How long do you think it'll be gone this time?" Jon asked, unsure about what answer he wanted to hear. 

"I believe it'll rise again soon," Arya said, clutching onto Jon's arm. 

"I guess we'll have to wait and see," Jon said with a heavy sigh.

As they enjoyed the rest of the sunset, hurried steps were heard from behind them, making them quickly turn to see who was in such a rush to reach them. They were met by the large maester-in-training, Samwell Tarly.

"Sam?" 

"Your grace-" Sam choked out, as he tried to regain his lost breath.

"I'm not anymore," Jon said softly with sadness evident in his tone. 

"Well, you are to me," Sam managed to say before taking in another large breath. "Anyway, that's not why I've come all this way to find you. I've come to let you know a ship has just entered the docks."

Both Arya and Jon looked at one another, confused as to where this was going.

"A ship? What's so special about a ship?" Arya asked next to her brother. 

"well, this ship was hoisting the Lannister banner... on board, we found Melisandre and a starving Tyrion Lannister on board." In a flash, both Jon and Arya rushed down the hill towards Bravos, with Sam cussing softly before following. 

It didn't take long for Jon and Arya to reach the manse they were staying at during their time in Essos. It was at the edge of the city, three large floors with enough bedrooms for all of them. A meeting hall where they could discuss strategy, and a comfy living area where people could relax. As they made it into the living area, they found Tyrion looking worse for wear, sitting in a chair with a ragged old maester looking him over. Also in the room, Davos stood near the back watching over the situation, Melisandre sat on one of the couches looking into the large fire that was lit in the fireplace. The Hound was also in the room, he was currently at one of the tables at the edge of the room, looking over the fruit basket, he picked up an apple and smelled it before grunting and throwing it over his shoulder, Lyanna stood beside the maester and glared down at the small man, while Sansa Stark sat across from Tyrion looking at him with worry. 

As Jon and Arya (and eventually Sam) made it into the room, Tyrion's eyes flicked up at them. "I see you could-" He intrupted himself with a fit of coughs. The maester tended him more, making Tyrion growl and wave him off. "-Make it."

Jon walked further into the room, "The last time we saw you, you were heading south to Dorne to try to warn the dornish." 

"It seems they are as stubborn as you northerners," Tyrion said with a sly smile. 

"What happened?" 

"Let's just say they're one of them now," Tyrion said with a sad tone in his voice as he let his eyes drop down to the ground. "We just managed to get out of there alive... I mean look at me," Tyrion said gesturing to himself. A few seconds of silence passed over them, the only sound coming from the fire. Tyrion then glanced over to the large doors near the back of the room where Jaime Lannister sat with a hard glare and a tense body, 'sharpening' his sword. "What's wrong with him?"

"He's pissed," The Hound said as he turned to the group, taking a big bite out of a plum. The juices ran from his mouth into his beard.

"I swear I saw you turn into a wight," Tyrion said looking at the Hound with disbelief.

"Maybe I am a Wight," The Hound replied back with a grim look.

"Tyrion," Jon said trying to get the small man to focus once more. "I need you to think, do you know where the Night King is going next?"

"No, no I don't Jon," Tyrion said as he looked at the maester trying to patch up a cut on his arm. "you know what-" Tyrion pushed the maester away "-You know what I need." He stood up out his chair, stumbling a bit, making Sansa get out her chair in concern. "I needed you!" Tyrion said pointing at Jon. He quickly grabbed the arm of a couch, stopping him from falling on his face. "S-She needed you!!" Jon took in a deep breath as the memories of Daenerys falling off the back of Drogon haunted him every night. 

"Tyrion," Sansa said softly, trying to calm the man down.

"That trumps anything you need Jon. We lost! Because of you," Tyrion said jabbing a finger into Jon's chest before passing out and hitting the floor hard. Everyone gathered around him making sure he was okay. Sam and the maester both agreed to give him milk of the poppy and let him rest. Sansa stayed by his bedside as the others left the room and stood around in silence, trying to think about the next step. 

"So, what do we do now?" Davos asked Jon who just stayed silent and shook his head. 

"You guys look after him, I'll bring him something nice when I get back," Arya said as she walked past the group. 

"Whoa, hold on. Where are you going?" Jon asked his little half-sister.

"What does it look like, I'm going to kill the Night King," Arya said as she twirled around to face them. 

"We do that together," Jon said as he looked into his sister's eyes. He hoped that Arya would understand and not run off to get herself killed. 

"Wait, we don't even know where that fucker is," Davos pointed out.

Before either Jon or Arya could answer, a voice called out to them. "I know where he will be." They all turned to see Melisandre standing in the doorway with a small frown upon her face. 

As they gathered mostly everyone into the meeting room, Melisandre explained everything. "The Night King has one job. Wipe all living creatures from this planet, since he can't swim, and his dragon has been killed, his only goal to do that will be to create an eternal night. with no sunshine, plants and crops can't grow, everyone in Essos will starve. The only way to do such a thing will be to cut down the last heart tree still standing," Melisandre explained as she stood in front of a blazer, looking deep into the flames. "Then he'll rest upon the bones of the fallen, king of all."

"That's cute, the Night King has a retirement plan," Davos said as he looked at the map of Westeros that was laying upon the large table.

"So, you're saying we need to kill the Night King before he can cut down the last heart tree?" Jon asked the red witch, who just slowly nodded in reply. 

"That's great and all, but we don't even know where the last heart tree is," Arya said stepping forward into the light and looked down at the map. "It could be anywhere."

"I know where," The Hound spoke up from his spot near the back of the room. All eyes turned to the large man as he walked forward, towards the map. "I've seen it," He then pointed his finger towards the spot where an island sat in the middle of the lake right next to Harrenhal. Bold letters named the island, 'The Isle of Faces'. "He's trying to get to that island."

"That's not too far from the coast, we could make it to him before he can make it to the heart tree," Arya said as she examined the map.

"Hey, let's not get too excited. If you all do this, we'll be going in short-handed," Sam said as he looked around the room at all his friends. 

"Because he killed all our friends?" Davos said with a lump in his throat. 

"If we can kill the Night King, maybe we can get the world back to the way that it was," Lyanna Mormont said from her seat. 

"What, just like that?" Sam asked in disbelief. 

"Aye, just like that," Jon said as he looked at his old friend before giving a small nod to Lyanna.

Arya looked up at Sam, "If there is even a small chance we can undo what has been done, we owe it to everyone not in this room to try." 

"Okay, let me put it another way. If we go after the Night King, one more time. How will we know it'll end any differently?" 

"Because before, he was expecting us," Jon said as he glanced at Sam before settling his eyes on the map. "He thinks he's beaten us, so he won't expect an attack from behind." 

Jaime then pushed back his chair at the end of the room drawing everyone's attention to the one-handed man. Jaime walked to the edge of the room where a table of clutter sat undisturbed. He rummaged around the clutter for a few seconds making everyone look at one another confused. 

"What the fuck is he doing?" The Hound asked as he watched the wounded lion work. 

Out of nowhere the gold hand prosthetic that Jaime wore flew over his shoulder and clattered down onto the map table, startling everyone. Jaime then turned to the group and held up his right hand so everyone could see the Dragonglass hook Samwell was designing. "What are we all waiting for, we've got dead people to kill," Jaime said with venom in his tone. 

Jon nodded before reaching around his back to pull a Dragonglass dagger out from its holster on his belt. "Let's go get this son of a bitch," Jon slammed the dagger down onto the Isle of faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked the first chapter! This was my first time writing for a while so, I may be a little rusty.


	2. A Cold Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group reach Westeros; Jon relives memories; The Night King hatches a plan and the Hound attacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last nights episode was so amazing, I couldn't believe what happened! So now this is all going to be plot divergence, duh.

They made it, they landed in Westeros. Thanks to Davos's great navigation, they managed to beach the small ship they sailed from Essos, down the bay of crabs and onshore by the Quiet Isle. Jon hopped off the ship and looked towards the direction of Harrenhal and the Isle of faces. There was nothing but darkness, the only light coming from the dim moon and the few torches they carried with them. As Davos, Arya, and the Hound tied the ship down, Jaime Lannister approached Jon. 

"Do you think we can beat him?" Jaime asked in a soft whisper so the others couldn't hear him. 

Jon let out a soft sigh before moving his grey eyes over to look at the Kingslayer, "we have too."

Jaime only showed Jon, a small sad smile before patting him on the back with his good hand, "I'll stand behind you, your grace." 

"I don't know what that title means to me anymore," Jon said as he tore his eyes from the one-handed man and back into the darkness of Westeros. 

"Hope," Jaime said before he turned back to the others and grabbed a torch and marching off into the veil of darkness. The others finished up the anchoring of the boat and looked at Jon then to the wandering Lannister. 

"Oh great, he fucked off again," The Hound said before grabbing a second torch that was planted in the ground next to the ship. 

Jon turned to the group that consisted of Arya, Davos, the Hound, and Lyanna Mormont. "Come on, the longer we are here, the longer he has to find us! We need to move quickly!"

Then like that, everyone was marching off inland, carrying torches and supplies. It has been a couple of hours since they set out on their journey, they stumbled across abandoned buildings where farmers and small folk once lived peacefully. They even stumbled across some old bones that they burned, just to make sure they didn't rise up and kill them. As they passed a small cottage on the edge of the Kingsroad and Harrenhall's small wood, Jon stopped the group by waving his torch a couple of times. As everyone stopped moving forward, they all gathered around Jon, for the next stage of their plan.

"We should rest here for a little while, we need all the strength we can get," Jon says to the group who all agreed. The cottage was small but big enough for the six of them. As the Hound and Davos started a fire in the small fireplace, Jaime sat outside, near the door, keeping a lookout. Lyanna sat on the straw bed, examining her Dragonglass weaponry.

Jon watched as the group chatted amongst themselves, enjoying what could be their last hours on this dreadful world. The Hound even found a storage of old ale that he shared with Davos. The Onion Knight joked about the bad ale tasted better then the finest ale they had at castle black, this made the large Hound laugh. Jon managed a very small smile at the sight of these two men enjoying themselves but soon found it too much to bear. With smalls strides, Jon found himself out the cottage and away from the group. He looked into the dark wood that stood between them and the Isle of faces. As he watched the darkness intensely, he slowly reached into his tunic pocket and pulled out a small valyrian steel emblem. It was shaped in the way of a Targaryen sigil, a silver chain was hooked through a small loop at the top of the sigil. As Jon stood there in the cold darkness, he examined the sigil in the pale moonlight, he remembered where he got it. The battle of King's Landing was hard and brutal, many lost their lives. Including his precious Dany. In the midst of battle, Jon landed Rhaegal and ran to her body, clutching her lifeless form in his arms. Blood trickled from her head and stained her bright silver hair, her white fur gown was covered in mud and gore. As he sat there clutching the lifeless body of his love, Rhaegal was taken down by a white Walker, soon followed by Drogon, but not before he burned his brother's body along with his own. As Davos raced to his aid, he hauled the last Targaryen away from his love. The small sigil he was now clutching in his shaking hands was the only thing he could recover from her. 

"This is going to work, Jon," the small voice of Arya Stark called out from beside the crying Targaryen. 

Jon jumped slightly at the sudden appearance of the small assassin, he was never going to get used to Arya sneaking up on him, no matter how many times she does it. Jon just let out a shaky breath before he clutched the sigil tighter, "I know it will." Jon looked over at his small half-sister, "Because I don't know what I'll do if it doesn't." 

Arya just looked at him with sadness and despair before pulling him into a tight hug. 

 

They stayed at that cottage for a few more hours before pushing on through the woods. Every step Jon took, he felt the air grow thinner and more brittle. He could clearly see the hot air leave his mouth as he exhales. 

"We're getting close," Jon told the others around him. "Dim your torches, stay close to one another." They all nodded, and one by one, they all dropped their torches to the ground and stomped them out. Leaving them in a pitch black hell. The moonlight seeped through the branches overhead, giving them some sort of guide. Slowly they managed to come to the edge of the wood where they can plainly see the Isle in the middle of the lake. The moon was reflecting off the water, lighting the surrounding area intensely. Then he saw them, the army of the dead. They stood just to the left of them, at the edge of the woods. The Night King and five of his White Walkers stood around him. His bright piercing blue eyes were staring directly at the Isle. 

"What's the plan?" Arya asked from beside Jon. He hadn't thought this far ahead if he was being honest with himself, he hoped to find the Night King alone, but that seemed like a green boy's folly. 

The Night King slowly raised one of his pale icy hands towards the Isle, he then slowly sank into a crouched position where he placed the hand on the ground next to the lake. The water in front of the Night King began to freeze over, creating some sort of ice bridge towards the Isle.

"He's freezing the lake," Jaime said next to him, as he watched the King of the dead work his magic. 

"What do we do?" Lyanna asked as she looked around the large form of the Hound.

"Okay, let's see," Jon said to himself as he began to come up with a plan in his head. After a few seconds, he managed to form a sort of plan... ish. "Okay, this is my plan. Arya, you-" Jon turned to Arya's position, only to find an empty spot. Jon looked around confused, followed by the others. "Where's Arya?" 

"For fuck's sake," The Hound softly growled. 

"Okay, looks like we have to do it without her," Davos commented as he looked back to the army of the dead. "I believe we have bigger problems then a missing assassin." He tugged on Jon's cloak before pointing off into the direction of the Night King. As Jon turned and gazed out across the lake, he spotted the Night King and his five Walkers walking seamlessly across the newly formed ice bridge and towards the Isle.

"Fuck, alright. . . Who is ready to die tonight?" Jon asked the group who all gripped their weapon tighter and nodded. Jon did the same before leaving the cover of the wood and out into the open by the shore. He started out in a small jog towards the start location of the ice walkway, but it soon turned into a sprint when the first bright blue eyes turned in his direction. Then he was now full on sprinting int he direction of the army of wights, they all stood motionless, staring at them. Jon expected them to run right back at them and kill them all, but they did no such thing. As Jon and the group neared the army, they all turned and fled the other direction, away from them. This shocked Jon the most, he never saw the army do anything but kill any living thing they could find. Jon turned to see the Night King and his White Walkers, walking back towards the mainland to where they were standing. 

"What's going on!?" The Hound demanded as he clutched his Dragonglass axe tighter in his hands. 

The Night King made it back onto solid ground, staring deep into Jon's eyes. This gave Jon several chills up and down his spine. As Jon and the Night King faced each other off, the Hound grew restless and he growled.

"Fuck this shit, I'm going to kill that motherfucker," The Hound said as he pushed past the others in front of him and rushed forward. The Night King turned to one of his generals and nodded. Two of the White Walkers moved forward to meet the Hound, their ice blades clashed with his Dragonglass. 

"Charge!" Jon yelled as Jaime, Lyanna, and Davos all rushed forward towards the fighting. Then it began, the fight against the White Walkers. 

"For Brienne!!!" Jaime yelled as he clashed with one of the White Walkers.

"For Bear Island!!" Lyanna screamed as she met her foe.

"For Daenerys!!!" Jon cried as he met the Night King's ice blade with his Longclaw, sending an ear-deafening screech through the night air. Strike after strike, Jon tried his best to keep up with the speed and force of the Night King, but the undead king was proving to be quite the match. A loud scream was heard beside him, tearing him away from his duel to peek at who has fallen. He spotted Lyanna moment with an ice spear through her abdomen. The White Walker stood over her triumphant. Before a single person could go over to help, Lyanna grabbed her Dragonglass dagger from the snowy ground and drove it through the White Walker's groin. Turning the White Walker into ice shards. 

As Jon watched the scene unfold, he failed to notice the Night King swing the but of his sword into his gut. Jon was thrown back through the cold air and onto the even cooler dirt. Jon gasped for air as if he had just been struck by a dragon. As Jon looked up at the dark starry sky, it was soon eclipsed by the face of the Night King. His bright evil blue eyes stared down at the wounded king. Struggling for breath still, Jon looked around in search for Longclaw that escaped his grasp when he was struck in the chest. He soon found the shimmer of valyrian steel, just a few feet away. As Jon went to reach for his fallen blade, a boot came slamming down onto his wrist, making him cry out in pain. 

Then Grey eyes meet blue, once more. Jon witnessed as the Night King raised his ice sword into the sky, ready to kill him once and for all. Jon closed his eyes and waited for the release of death, soon he'll see Dany again. But the sharp pain never came, instead, a loud roar was heard along with the clatter of ice against the ground. Ton reopened his eyes to see The Night King, turned around with a struggling Arya in his grasp. In her left hand, she was grasping her valyrian dagger, Catspaw. With a swift movement, Catspaw slipped from her hand and vanished behind the Night King, out of Jon's view. Then in an instant, the Night king shattered, sending ice shards in every direction. Jon covered his eyes to block the ice crystals. As the ice settled, Jon looked around to see all the dead reduced to nothing but ice and bone. Jon grunted as he got to his one knee and looked at Arya who had a smile drawn across her face. 

"We. . . won?" Jaime asked confused as he used Widow wail as a crutch. 

As if to answer his question, the skies cleared up and the bright light of the rising sun struck them. The full damage of what happened came into view, dead bodies of all that have fallen and resurrected have crumbled into one giant pile near the lakeside. Ice shards decorated the ground on which the White Walker's once stood. 

"We did it," Jon said as he struggled to his feet. He then looked over to see Davos clutching the lifeless body of Lyanna Mormont. Everyone soon gathered around the two, looking down with sorrow.

"The last life to be taken by those assholes," The Hound commented as he chewed his lip and slammed the but of his Dragonglass axe into the frozen ground. 

"She was a true hero," Jon said as he looked at the petite body with grief. "She'll be remembered." 

"What do we do now? Everyone is gone, Westeros is in tatters. . . How do we come back from this?" Davos said with a lump in his throat.

Jon had an answer to that question, but it wasn't one he was willing to accept himself. "We. . . Move on," and with that Jon sheathed Longclaw and walked away from the group rubbing the tears that just began to fall from his stormy eyes. 

_Move on_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to have Arya be the one again because last night's kill was soo good, I was definitely going to put that in my story. And thank you for all the Kudos and love you gave on my first chapter, it really means a lot to me. . . thank you!


	3. Perfectly Not Confusing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and Jon receive an unexpected guest and Tyrion enjoys life.

Five years. . . five years since she killed the Night King, and she still felt empty inside.

Arya sat in the war room of the Manse in Essos, it had become a sort of a base for those that still wanted to protect the people from the evils of the world. There was only a few left who wanted to do such a thing, the others retired and decided to live their own lives. Jaime fled to a small village in Dorne, but no one has heard from the one-handed Lannister for a few years now. He could be dead for all they knew. Then there was Sansa and Tyrion who both left to live in a small cottage in the North. Sansa wanted to be close to home, something Arya couldn't understand. Westeros has been slowly gaining in population since the end of the world, mostly settlers and such. No form of government has really been established since Jon refused to return as king. Arya believed he said something like, 'I'd be the king of nothing'. Arya couldn't blame him, he had lost much in the battle for the dawn, the last thing he wants is to rule the place that reminded him so much of what he had suffered.

Arya rubbed her tired eyes as she reached for one of the last scrolls sitting on her desk. The seal had an onion incrested on it, that seal belonged to one person only. Davos Seaworth. As she cracked the wax seal, she unraveled the parchment and read the words within.

_'Arya, I bring news of mass murder in Meereen. Thousands dead, heads cracked open like an egg.'_

Most likely a Dothraki hoard, Arya thought to herself.

_'You and I both know who's work this belongs to'_

No, this can't be him. . . Impossible.

_'You need to bring him in. . . Help him if you can, but if you can't-'_

Arya closed her eyes, refusing to read the last words written on the parchment. However, she understood it was her job to read every raven and act accordingly. She willed all her strength to look at the last few sentences.

_' But if you can't. . . he must be dealt with. I'm sorry, I know what he means to you, he means the world to me! But if Gendry can't stop himself, then he is a danger to us all._  
_Yours truly, Davos Seaworth._ '

Arya felt the tears start to well in her eyes. She scolded herself for doing such a thing. Warriors don't cry, she can't cry. But she had when she learned that Gendry survived the Long Night, years ago. He has been on a rampage through Essos ever since, killing murderers, rapers, and thieves alike.

Arya threw the piece of parchment down onto the table in front of her and curled up in a ball on the chair she was sitting on. she felt the hot tears start to break free from her eyes and roll down her cheeks.

_Why didn't he come to find her? Why didn't he try?_ That was all she thought about as she attempted to wipe away the sadness that plagued her.

"It looks like you aren't a psychopath after all," a voice said from the doorway to the war room. Arya lifted her eyes up to meet Jon's stormy grey eyes. He had his classic tunic with an embroidery of the Stark and Targaryen sigil on the left breast. He had recently shaved and a small stubble was taking place on his cheeks, upper lip, chin, and neck.

"Maybe you're right," Arya replied before using her sleeve to wipe away the rest of the loose tears. As Jon walked closer, Arya's eyes just caught sight of the bronze platter Jon was carrying. As he made it to her position, he set the platter down in front of her, giving her view of what was on the bronze surface. A chicken breast with a few boiled potatoes.

"I brought you dinner," Jon stated as he took his seat at the large table. "Since you didn't come down to eat earlier. . . or the day before that. . . or the-"

Arya intrupted him before he could finish, "Yes I get it, I haven't been eating." No matter what, Jon has acted the big brother role for the last few years. Even when he was at his lowest, he still managed to make Arya smile.

His eyes glanced at the raven scroll in front of her and a sad look washed over his features, "It's Gendry again."

"How did your king brain figure that one out?" Arya replied in a sad mocking tone.

"It doesn't take a Tyrion to figure out that you only cry when it involves this boy," Jon said as he leaned back in his chair. He must've recognized the look of hurt and sorrow on her face, so he changed the subject. "Westeros is starting to thrive once more. I say in a few years, they'll set a government in place."

"If you're going to tell me to look on the bright side, I'm going to hit you with a chicken breast," Arya replied glumly.

Jon smiled slightly at Arya's jab, but the smile soon died down into a frown. "Sorry, a force of habit."

Then they sat in silence, both looking off into different directions, thinking about different things. Jon was the first one to break the ice, "You know, I tell everyone they should move on. . . but I can't do that myself."

Arya slowly looked into her half-brothers' eyes, feeling the guilt, sorrow, and pain that resided within them. "Jon I-"

Before Arya could finish, the door to the room burst open and the maester came charging into the room out of breath. "My-my-my lord. . . my lady," he managed between sharp breaths. "T-There is someone waiting for you in the lounge!"

Both Arya and Jon looked at one another, unsure as to who could be waiting for them a floor below.

"Who is it?" Jon asked the exhausted maester.

"H-He told me, not to tell you," the maester responded. "He also said it was urgent. He said Winter is coming."

Both Arya and Jon lept out their chairs and down the hall. As Jon hopped down the stairs, five at a time. Arya slides down the banister. Soon both of them were standing in the doorway to the lounge where a raging fire was taking place in the fireplace. That's when they saw him. A fur blanket covering his legs as he sat idle in his wheelchair. Brandon Stark turned his head to look at the pair of them.

"We have much to discuss," he said in his monotone voice.

Arya was the first one to dash across the room and embrace her brother. Arya felt tears well in her eyes once more, but not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. She clung to her brother, afraid that if she let go, he would die again. The sight of him getting cut down by the Night King still haunted her. It was a wonder to feel him in her arms once more. A feeling she thought she would never get to know.

She released him so Jon could hug their brother, after his tight embrace they both looked into Bran's emotionless eyes, searching for answers.

"Bran, how are you-how can-we saw you-," Jon said stuttering over himself, bewildered by Bran's sudden appearance.

"How did you survive?" 

Bran moved his emotionless eyes over to her, "I harnessed as much power from the gods as I could and I moved forward in time."

Both Arya and Jon stood there with clueless expressions across their faces. They looked at one another, hoping the other had a single clue what was going on. When they found nothing, they both turned back to the Three-Eyed-Raven.

"Um, what?"

"It's simple really," Bran replied, shifting his gaze over to Jon. "When I knew the prophecy wouldn't happen sooner then I expected, I used plan B. I managed to use the energy of the heart tree to propel me through time to this year."

"I'm sorry, prophecies? Time travel? Do you hear yourself, Bran! This is madness," Jon stated as he began to pace around the room.

"I know it's very hard to explain, but you have to trust me. I think I can help you get everyone back," This silenced the room in an instant. Jon stopped his pacing and looked at Bran with a face full of turmoil. "I can help stop any of this from happening."

"What did you say?" Jon softly muttered.

"I can help Daenerys."

"What?" Arya asked confused looking between Bran's emotionless expression and Jon's troubled appearance. "How exactly do you plan on doing that?"

"The same way I got here. . . I'll send us back through time," Bran replied like it was no problem what so ever.

Before Arya could respond, Jon was kneeling in front of Bran with pleading eyes. "Will it work?"

"It will," Bran stated with a small nod.

"What do you need," Jon spoke with power in his voice. A sense of leadership Arya hasn't seen in years.

"Whoa, Whoa, let's all just calm down. We don't even know what the bloody hell is going on," Arya said looking between her cousin and her brother.

"Arya," Jon replied, grabbing her shoulders and clutching her tightly. She gazed up into his deep grey eyes, full of a new found purpose, "This could be our shot. I know it sounds crazy, gods I don't even know if I believe it myself. But if there is any chance, any chance at all I can get my family back. . . I will."

Arya was lost for words, he was so determined and so ready to do anything for his lost family he would blindly follow this mad folly. "Are you really sure you want to pull this thread? This is unknown territory, I mean we're talking about fucking time travel!"

"I know, I know," Jon muttered as he slowly loosened his grip on her small shoulders and sagged in defeat. "I. . . I just want to have her back."

Arya looked at the sad beaten man in front of her and felt a ping of guilt in her gut. He needed to do this, there was no stopping him now. With a heavy sigh, Arya gave into her cousin's demands and turned to her crippled brother. "What do we need?" Jon's face lit up at Arya's reply, he looked like a kid receiving a massive present for his name day.

"I need a heart Tree, a team of seven willing travelers. . . and a red priestess," Bran declared as the fire behind him burned brighter.

 

**THE NORTH**

 

Tyrion took in a deep breath, he felt the summer air of the north, fill his lungs. He let a smile play across his face as he walked down the porch and onto the soft dirt ground. He looked up at the cottage Sansa and himself moved into when the war for the dawn was finally over. They decided to take a long break from all the worries of playing the game of thrones and just live a normal life together. Just the two of them. . . or should he say three now?

Tyrion walked over to a small fort that was built out of blankets and furs. "Cat, supper is ready!" Tyrion yelled as he looked at the small fort with a grin.

Then the blankets were pulled back and out stepped a young girl, only three years old. She had auburn hair, just like her mother, and bright green eyes like her father. "What is it?" She asked in her small voice.

"Well, it's cabbage, garlic, and a chicken," Tyrion said as the young girl walked up to her father. She wore a face of disgust when Tyrion mentioned cabbage and garlic. "What? I thought you liked chicken?"

"I love chicken, I don't like cabbage," the young girl huffed, crossing her arms. Tyrion had to fight the large grin that was threatening to take over his features.

"Okay, here's the deal. If you eat all your cabbage, I'll allow you to have as much lemon cakes as you want," Tyrion whispered. Cat's eyes grew ten times larger and excitement filled her small little face. She nodded her head up and down, several times. "Well, okay then it's settled," Tyrion grabbed the girl's hand and started to guide her over to the cottage. "But don't tell your mother, okay."

"I promise," The girl replied softly.

Tyrion smiled, never in a million years did he think he would have a family. But there he was, holding his little girl's hand, about to eat supper with his wife. Then when he reached the front of the cottage, he was met by the sight of Jon and Arya, on horseback, with a small carriage behind them. they both wore grim faces, something Tyrion didn't need in his life. Not when he has a family to think about.

"Uncle Jon! Aunt Arya!" Cat screamed out in delight as she raced towards the two who just started to dismount. After each of their hugs and loves, Tyrion walked up to his daughter.

"Go tell your mother that her siblings have arrived," Tyrion told the little girl, who just nodded and raced off towards the entrance to the cottage. Tyrion looked back at Jon's big sad eyes. "I'm guessing this isn't a nice visit," Tyrion asked the pair of them.

"It depends on your perspective," a voice called out. He looked around the small figure of Arya to see Bran getting helped by two guards into his wheelchair.

After several shocked and curious questions. Sansa cried over her long lost brother for a few minutes, until he had to pull her away from the cripple. They told him about time travel and how Bran ended up in the manse in Essos. It was all very confusing, but Tyrion had them sit down at a table outside. He poured them all wine, but Bran didn't even look at the cup, his stare was fixed on Tyrion alone.

"So. . . time travel," Tyrion said as he sat himself down in the chair and took a large swig.

"I know it sounds crazy-" Jon began to say until Tyrion intrupted him.

"More like impossible," Tyrion took another gulp of wine.

"We can stop the long night from ever happening," Arya stated as she paced around the small area of the porch.

"And give up everything I gained here, no way," Tyrion said plainly.

"I know you will be risking a lot," The brooding Northener began to say.

"A lot? I have a kid now, that means the world to me." After another swig of wine, he looked between each of their faces, "what exactly is your plan anyway?"

"We send seven people back before into their old bodies, where they'll stop the war of the five kings, band everyone together so we can destroy the Night King before he can slaughter Westeros," Bran blankly answered.

Tyrion sat in his chair, looking at the cripple with a dumbfounded look. Then he began to laugh, he placed his goblet down in order not to spill any of the wine. After his little fit of laughter, he looked up at the very serious faces gazing at him. "Oh, come on. That's madness. There is no way you can stop the war of the five kings and get everyone to live in harmony."

"We have to try," Jon pleaded. All Tyrion could do was let out a long sigh before rubbing his tired eyes. "This is the fate of Westeros."

"No," Tyrion said finally meeting Jon's cold eyes. "This is you trying to fix your mistakes. You want to get her back, I can understand that." Jon chewed his lip and looked down to his feet in shame at Tyrion's harsh words. "But I got a family now. . . your grace," Tyrion said the last words with a hint of mockery. Causing Jon to snap his focus back to Tyrion's green orbs. Anger lurked just underneath the grey surface of Jon's eyes, craving to come out and unleash the hidden dragon.

A small pitter patter of feet broke the tense silence as Cat came running out towards them and into her father's chair. "Mother told me to come and save you," she said with an innocent little voice. Tyrion looked from his dearest daughter to Jon, the anger in his eyes faded, followed by guilt.

"You did it, I am saved," Tyrion said with a small smile, clinging onto her small form. "I really wished you guys came here for anything else, truly I do. I just can't help you on this one," the dwarf said in a sympathetic tone. Arya sighed before walking a little ways away from the group. Bran kept his death glare, and Jon just looked at Cat before meeting Tyrion's eyes once more.

"I hope the best for you and your family," Jon spoke softly before draining the wine left in his goblet.

"Supper should almost be ready, you guys can stay if you like. Just don't discuss your little plan."

"No, I think we're good, thanks. We got a lot a work ahead of us," Jon said before setting the goblet down and moving to help bran with his wheelchair.

"Jon," Tyrion called out to him as he retreated away from the cottage. Jon stopped pushing Bran and turned to look at the dwarf. "I'm sorry." And with that Jon just turned back and helped Bran into the small carriage. The fallen king jumped on his stallion and bolted off away from the cottage Tyrion called home.

 

**OLD TOWN**

 

Jon, Arya, Bran, and the newly Archmaester Samwell Tarly sat at a local inn, near the citadel. Sam was currently eating a large ham, while Jon and Arya silently sipped their ale.

"So let me get this right," Sam said as he wiped his mouth free from the grease of the ham. "You want me to help go back in time and fix everything that has happened?"

"Exactly," Bran clearly stated.

Sam's large eyes flicked to Jon then to Bran confused, "you're talking about time travel?"

"More like a cosmic leap into a fixed point in the time-" Bran started to explain blankly.

"Yes, Sam. time travel," Jon responded, cutting his brother off from his Three-Eyed-Raven thing.

"That's impossible," Sam replied taking another bite out his ham.

"That seems to be everyone's reaction," Arya spoke sipping her ale.

"Nothing is ever impossible," Bran said once more.

"look, I trust you. But how do we know this is going to work? We might just mess it up even more," Sam reached over a took a sip from his own ale.

"More messed up then things already are?" Jon asked his best friend. Before Sam could answer, Jon spoke again, "look at yourself Sam. You're an Archmaester and everything, but you don't look happy. You're not acting like yourself since Gilly and little Sam passed."

Sam lowered his eyes, his attitude seemed to shift in an instant. The loss of his love and kid, evident in his face and body movement.

"We have this chance. . . this one chance, to undo all of that. We can take back what is ours and kill the ice cunt who did it to us, way before he can harm anyone we love," Jon stated with a confident tone.

With a sigh, Sam replied, "You're right. I guess it's a risk I'll have to take."

"The risk all of us are taking," Arya reassured the maester.

Sam managed a small smile. "Okay, so. . . when are we doing this?"

"Well, there's a problem, we need seven people to go back in time. So far we only have Arya, you, and myself," Jon said, rubbing his nape nervously.

"Have you sent ravens? Met with anyone else?" Sam asked the three of them.

"We met with Tyrion, he was a dead end," Arya said with an angry huff before finishing her drink.

"We sent ravens to The Hound, Davos, and Melisandre," Bran mentioned calmly.

"The red woman? Why the red woman?"

"She is needed for the thing," Jon explained briefly.

"The Hound and Davos are heading to Dorne, while the rest of us are going to Winterfell to start preparing," Bran said emotionless once more. "Except for Arya."

"What? Where am I going?" Arya asked confused as to what Bran was planning.

"To meet an old friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed, It'll be another chapter or two until they go back in time. It just doesn't feel right if everyone was suddenly on board with time travel, so I'm going to follow the movie for most of the pre-time travel stuff. I'm hoping to get more chapters out to you guys soon!


	4. You Shouldn't Be Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davos and the Hound find a wounded Lion; Arya meets an old friend; Bran and the others get ready, and Sansa asks the hard questions.

The Dornish sun was beaming down upon them with unyielding heat. Davos felt his skin boil from the heat, and he sensed a sunburn coming to hunt him in the near future. The beads of sweat his body was producing to help cool the smuggler down weren't doing their job; nothing was. Davos wiped away the trickles of sweat from his forehead with the back of his stubbed hand.

"Why the fuck did we get sent to this shit place?" The Hound barked beside him. Davos glanced over at the large man. He seemed to be suffering more under the red sun. This gave the onion knight some relief, _A least I'm not the only one dying in this shit hole_.

"The king said that they needed Ser Jaime for this mission," Davos replied, trudging along the small winding path that was supposed to lead them to the place Jaime Lannister was hiding. They had horses, but unfortunately, they didn't make it very far in the weather. This gave a couple of dornish locals a right fit of laughter at the sight of two old men walking along with red peeling skin. The smuggler was sure that the Hound would have cut both of the men down where they stood, but luckily the dog seemed to have calmed down since his early days in King's Landing. This saved the smuggler the sight of blood, a view he was never going to get used to, no matter how many battles he enters.

"He's no king anymore, and I don't want to die looking for a fucking Lannister," Sandor spoke as he covered his scarred face from the sudden burst of wind that blew sand in their direction. Davos chose best not to argue with the grouchy old dog and kept his focus on his feet. _If I keep putting one foot in front of the other, I'll get to somewhere cold_ , he told himself. He felt heavier with each step; the fear of crumbling under his weight into the red dust below was agonizing. The thought of his body becoming a feast for the vultures that now circled them, waiting for the two men to drop dead so they can feed on their flesh, was even more terrifying

It was a few more painful hours of burning hot air and tears that evaporated as soon as they left their dry eyes until they first spotted the village from afar. It wasn't large, a couple of dozen small houses, with a larger one in the center.

"Why does anyone live out here?" Clegane asked the exhausted smuggler beside him, who just responded with a huff and a sigh. Davos was too tired for words, every effort to speak left his whole throat dry from the exposer to the dry Dornish air.

Another hour passed, and they made it to the edge of the small town, smallfolk looked up from their regular activities to spot the newcomers. Children chasing each other with a stick bumped past the onion knight, startling him. An older woman hanging out wet clothes stared at him with piercing dark eyes. "You two aren't from around here," she said, pointing with a crooked finger at the pair of them.

"Really? How did you figure that one out?" The Hound said scornfully. "You old crone," Sandor spat, Davos just managed to catch the insult before he walked on further. Davos spied at the old woman once more, and her dark gaze lingered on him for a few seconds longer before turning back to her washing. It didn't take long for the old smuggler to fall in line with the large man once more. "Where is this golden fucker, anyway?"

"The king didn't specify," Davos croaked, rubbing his throat in an attempt to soothe the dry tingle that crept down his windpipe.

"Good bloody use he was." This time Davos remained silent once more, looking around at the small folk, hoping to recognize the Lannister amongst them. The Hound made the first attempt to find the one-handed individual, and he walked up to a middle-aged looking man with one eye. He was currently attending a small growing garden at the front of a small house fit for a couple of people. "Hey you, one-eyed fucker," Sandor barked at the man, causing him to drop what he was doing and look up in fear. "Have you seen a man with one hand walking around here?"

"N-No, s-ser," the man quivered, looking up at the massive beast in front of him.

"I'm not a. . . ah forget it," Clegane stated, throwing his hands into the air with frustration. "This place is full of cunts."

"I-I know the one-handed man," a small voice called out from behind Davos. With a quick turn, the smuggler spotted who the voice belonged to. It was one of the boys that ran past, swinging sticks at one another. with a quick scan of the area, Davos spotted the other boy hiding behind a cart full of fruit. "That's who you're looking for, right?"

Sandor marched up next to Davos and looked at the small boy. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Davos held up a hand to stop him. "Maybe, I should handle this." The Hound just grumbled and clenched one of his fists. The onion knight turned his attention to the boy who couldn't have been younger then one-and-ten. "You know Jaime Lannister?"

"Well, I don't know him. . . I think we're talking about the same man. Our parents forbid us from ever going near him, but Ali and I always make bets on who could sneak up the closest," The young boy said pointing over his shoulder at the frighted boy behind the cart, he looked a few years younger than the boy in front of the smuggler. "I got right up close, almost touched him."

"No, you didn't!" the younger boy, Ali, squeaked up from behind the cart.

"Yes, I did! you didn't know because you were too busy hiding in the shed too afraid that the lion would kill you!" The other boy yelled, rounding on the younger one.

"Son, I need you to focus. Wh-" Before Davos could finish asking the boy, the noise voice of the Hound intrupted him.

"Kid, where is he?"

"Umm, h-h-he lives at the small farmhouse just south of the village," the boy spoke with fear in his tone, pointing off in the direction of the farmhouse.

"Thank you, very much," Davos replied with a smile before running off to catch up with the Hound that was now off towards the direction of the farmhouse. It wasn't too far out of the village. They found it relatively fast, considering they were both ready to topple over from the heat. But having their objective right in front of them gave them the small push of hope they needed.

They marched up the front steps of the rather small farmhouse, and Sandor banged his fist on the door with a heavy thud. A few seconds of silence passed over them, waiting for an answer. But nothing came. Again, the Hound pounded his fist into the wooden door, this time yelling out, "Jaime, you one-handed cunt! Let us in!"

After another tense silence, the Hound turned back to Davos who just gave a defeated shrug. The Hound procced to send off multiple curses, while Davos's gaze drifted from the door towards the open field. That's when his old eyes met the sight that he was looking for, a silhouette with bright greying blonde hair was out in the field in front of an object Davos couldn't quite see from the angle he was at. With a steady hand, Davos patted the Hound on the back to draw his attention.

"What is it!?" The Hound barked. Davos nodded in the silhouette's direction, causing Sandor's eyes to widen.

It took no time for them to march their way through the field of crops, towards the man. As they grew nearer, Davos began to see him more Clearly, he wore ragged clothes with patches stitched in to cover up holes. His hair had grown past his shoulders, and the color began to turn a dust grey. He was fumbling with a strap connected to what looked to be a wooden plow. As they approached, the man's body seemed to tense up.

"If you kids are trying to sneak up on me again, it won't-" The man said in a gruff voice before turning around and coming face to face with Davos and the Hound. Davos now saw his face, the face of a man that had been broken ten times over, the face of Jaime Lannister. His beard had grown longer, the hints of blond faded long ago, replaced with a massive grey mess of hair. His eyes were the worst thing about him, the dull painfilled eyes that looked almost hollow in a way. His stump was in clear view, no longer supporting the golden hand he once wore. "Oh. . . It's you guys." He wore a face of shock and worry.

"You're a hard man to find," Davos responded first.

"There is a reason for that," Jaime replied in a low voice as he set aside what he was doing and fully turned to the two visitors. "If the pair of you are here to bring me back, I have bad news for you."

"Jon needs your help," Davos started to explain to the one-handed man.

"Needs my help?" Jaime asked as he started to chuckle to himself softly. "Why does the last Targaryen need my help?"

"We found a way to go back and fix everything that has happened to this shit world."

"That's a nice dream. . . If only that can happen, but guess what," Jaime walked up to Davos, mere inches from one another. "This world is not kind, nor fair. We can't win, no matter what we do!" Jaime screamed in Davos's face, making the older smuggler step back to avoid the man's wrath.

Before Davos could respond, the Hound grabbed the front of Jaime's tunic and lifted into the air and slammed his back against the plow, making Jaime wine in pain. "Listen here, fucker! We are taking you to Winterfell, whether you like it or not! Then we're going to go back in time, or whatever that cunt fucker says, and we are going to save everyone's miserable asses. . . Because I've lost things too." Davos stood in that field with complete shock and awe washing over him. By the look now on the bearded Kingslayer, he was going through the same set of emotions. "Now. . . are you going to make me knock you out and carry you Or are you going to grow a set of balls, head north with us, and save her?"

Davos stood there looking at the pair of them, staring into one another's eyes. Without saying another word, Jaime just slowly nodded his head, giving Davos a wave of relief.

"Then let's get moving," The Hound said one last time before letting Jaime go.

 

**Astapor**

 

Arya let out a groan as the ship she boarded from Bravos, finally docked in the slave city of Astapor. She had been abroad the 'Sweet Sister' for two months, docking in Volantis and other ports so the sailors could trade and do their business. But she finally made it, the last known location of Gendry was up in Meereen, so her guess was that the man would head south, hitting all the slave cities he could. The bay where they docked had looked abandoned, and ships left uncrewed, no dock master, no sailors, no man or woman in sight. This made Arya's stomach queasy, worried at what sight she'll find when she made it ashore. The whole feeling of this trip didn't sit well with her, ever since she left Oldtown. The haunting sense of what she'll find when she does come across the lost Baratheon still makes her heart race.

"My dear, we've docked," The old, balding captain wheezed next to her. "Tho', I don't see anybody in sight. Are you sure this place is still in inhabited?" The captain asked with a curious eye.

"I'm sure," Arya muttered before walking past the captain and down the small ramp to the sturdy dock below. As Arya approached the steep stone steps that lead to the city, she gripped the handle of needle tighter. As the small assassin took the first step, she felt her body grow heavier. Every step she took felt like an extra weight was added to her shoulders. The feeling of dread seemed to grow in size as well; she knew that the boy was here. A sense was telling her to turn and run as far as she could, while another feeling told her to face her fears. _A wolf doesn't run_ , She told herself.

As she made it past the top step, the courtyard of the city stood at full view. A giant harpy stood in the center of a fountain pond, with water trickling out its mouth, down its chin, past its gold breasts, and into the still water below. The courtyard around it decorated with red brick, Arya had no clue if it was the brick that was red or the many guards and slave master's blood that made it so. Body's upon bodies were scattered across this large courtyard. All but one man was still standing, a man that had a very muscular outline, a tunic that appeared to be bright yellow, but blood and mud stains covered most of the original color. His dark hair was short, and a massive war hammer was clutched in his right hand. The head of the war hammer was covered with gore, it dripped down onto the blood-soaked brick below, turning the red brick even redder.

Arya looked at the man with shock and horror; the scene around her made her stomach turn. The gore and death didn't bother her too much due to her many years at being a faceless man. But the one behind it all managed to pull the most horrifying emotions out of her. But none of it seemed to compare to the impact of the ripple of emotions that hit her when the murderer turned around to face her. The face of her once lover was clear to see in the bright Essos sunlight. His brown eyes seemed to convey a sense of shock and surprise upon looking upon her petite figure. His lower face was covered with a substantial amount of stubble, but that didn't stop Arya from recognizing the man as Gendry Baratheon.

"A-Arya?" He stuttered in shock, still having the expression of disbelief plastered across his face. Arya opened her mouth to speak, but no words followed. She felt too nauseous to talk. She was only feeling anger, worry, sadness, and regret. "What are you doing here?"

She took a deep breath before meeting Gendry's brown eyes, "I'm here because I need you. . . Because you need me," She found herself saying looking around at the bodies that littered the red bricks.

"Oh, this?" He asked, gesturing to the mess around him with the war hammer still tightly clutched in his hand. "This was justice."

"Justice?" Arya choked out with disbelief. "When did mass murder without a trial become justice?"

"Since the Night King killed all of Westeros!" He raised his voice, causing Arya to clench her teeth. "Why are you so bothered with this anyway? You murder people all the time."

"I've changed," She responded, hoping he bought into her lie. She hasn't; she did what he did just on a much smaller scale if truth be told. She hunted down crime lords in the free city's and killed them. But every time she stuck that dagger into their gut or neck, she felt like it was justified. But deep down, deep deep down, Jon's reassuring voice always called her back to reality. Killing anyone she thought deserved it, isn't justice, it's just plain murder. That's what she told herself each night before she drifted off to sleep, hoping that nightmares didn't ruin her rest.

"Maybe you have. . . But these people deserved to die," he stated, kicking one of the bodies beside him.

"Why?"

"Because, why do they get to go on living perfectly, doing the shit that they do, committing monstrous crimes. While the rest of us has to suffer!" He screamed in pain and torture. "I'm doing this world a favor by ridding it of these assholes!"

Arya spotted the few tears that started to well in his big brown eyes. She felt her feet move by themselves, stepping closer to the hurting man until she was a few feet away. "I know what you think you're doing is right, but it's not. But there is a way to change all of this, to change the outcome. We can win; all you have to do is come with me," Arya spoke in a soft tone. "Can you do that? Can you come with me. . . Please," She asked with a pleading voice, reaching out a shaky hand, gripping Gendry's free hand. Gendry clasped Arya's small hand in his own, giving it a tight squeeze. His eyes looked at her, the anger and rage faded, replaced with sorrow and sadness.

"How?"

"If you come with me to Winterfell, Jon and Bran will explain. They have a plan," Arya said with a small smile, a smile Gendry returned along with a nod.

 

**Winterfell**

 

"So. . . what was the plan again?" Jon asked, confused from his spot at the end of the war table. Arya, Gendry, The Hound, Davos, Jaime, Sam, Bran, and Melisandre all stood or sat around the table that had the map of Westeros and Essos, decorating the dull fading wood.

"It's simple," Sam stated as he shuffled forward into the light of the candle. "Bran will send us back to 298 AC, where all of us will be inside our younger bodies. If I heard you correctly." Bran gave a short nod in response. "So that put's, Jon and Arya in Winterfell," he spoke, placing a wolf and a dragon figurehead on top of Winterfell. "The Hound, Ser Jaime, and Gendry in King's Landing," he said once more, placing a Stag, Lion, and Dog figurehead at King's Landing. "Davos will be at Dragonstone," An onion was placed on the small island. "And I will be at Hornhill," this time he stretched to place the archer figurehead, on top of Hornhill.

"We have the red lady, does she not count?" Gendry asked from his spot where he stood rubbing at his stubble that was slowly turning into a full grown beard.

"I won't be traveling, I only help ease the effort of the Three-Eyed-Raven," Melisandre said, resting a pale hand on Bran's shoulder.

"It doesn't matter, we need to figure out everyone's role," Jon said looking at the map in front of him. His gaze went to the dragon on Winterfell and then slowly trailed across the narrow sea to the free-city of Pentos.

"I can grab Gendry from King's Landing, try and convince Lord Stannis into believing in the dead men," Davos spoke with his hand's placed behind his back.

"I'll be on the street of steel, you found me once before. I'm sure you can do it again," Gendry said with a nod.

"I'll see about killing that cunt of a prince," The Hound barked.

"Do you really need to kill him?" Jaime asked from his seat. He still looked unwashed and untidy.

"What? He's a cunt," The Hound looked unfazed.

"I'll kill him," Arya offered with no remorse.

"We don't need to kill anyone if we don't have to," Jon glared at the Hound and Arya who both huffed and rolled their eyes. "Our main goal is the gaining of allies, the more we can get on our side, the better."

"I can see about turning Hornhill against my father, that'll give us a large number of troops," Sam addressed.

"Are you sure?" Jon asked his friend with concern. "From what you told me, your father doesn't seem like the kindest of men."

"I'll be fine," Sam said with a low nervous chuckle.

"I'll move west, and I'll stop by Hornhill to give you a hand," Jaime said, looking over at the maester. "Don't even. . . say it," He snapped at the Hound who was opening his mouth to make a jape about his use of the word 'hand.' "If I can get Casterly Rock on my side, then maybe we might stand a chance against a bigger threat then the Night King."

"And Who is that?"

"My father," Jaime simply replied, causing the whole room to silence.

"I'll try to persuade my father, but I'm not sure I could fully sway him," Arya mumbled gazing down at Winterfell with her cold grey eyes. "I was only young back then. a small girl with big dreams, father won't listen to me."

"No, but he might listen to me," A voice called out from the doorway. All eyes turned to see Sansa Stark standing in the door with an elegant black dress. Her long bright auburn hair flowed down her shoulders, reaching for the small of her back.

"Sansa!" Arya cried with a broad smile.

"I couldn't let my siblings have all the fun now could I," Sansa said, moving into the room, hugging Arya, followed by Jon.

"The same goes for me," a sigh escaped Tyrion's lips. He stood where his wife once stood, his face sported a frown. But it soon faded when his green eyes met Jaime's, and both men hugged one another fondly.

"Where's Cat?" Jon asked his sister.

"A local Farm couple was glad to look after her," Sansa replied, standing next to her brother/cousin. "After what Tyrion told me about your little talk, I managed to convince him that the lives of all of Westeros, our family including, was worth the risk."

"I'm glad you came." Sansa only smiled at her cousin before turning back to the map.

"Do we get figureheads as well? "Sansa asked the maester who quickly fumbled around in his pockets. He then pulled out two more, one lion, the other a wolf. He promptly placed them in the crucial places, the wolf next to the other in Winterfell, and the other at King's Landing.

"Great, so that gives us more than seven," Jon gazed at all the figures set in place.

"I can send all nine of you, but be warned. The more power I use to send you guys back, the more of the unknown might happen, nothing like this has ever occurred on this large of scale before," Bran said in his monotone voice, gazing idly at the map.

"What do you mean? What Unknown stuff?" Tyrion asked with worry evident in his tone.

"It's unknown," Melisandre spoke as she gazed at Jon before moving her eyes back onto the map on the table.

"Well now that Sansa is here, we can have both Sansa and Arya working on getting the North together," Jon stated, glancing between the two girls.

"Agreed," Sansa replied with a quick nod.

"While we do that, Jon, you can go beyond the wall and get the Wilding south before they die," Arya told her brother. Jon's face fell, as he snapped his vision to his little sister.

"But I was planning on going to Pentos," Jon replied, pointing to the free-city on the map. "We need Daenerys and her dragons."

"And we also need the wildlings and their giants," Arya shot back.

"I can go to Pentos your grace," Davos gave a quick nod. "After getting Gendry to Dragon Stone, I'll make my way over to the queen and try my best to explain what is going on.

"Thank you, Davos, but this is something I need to do myself," Jon responded.

"No offense Jon, but this isn't just about you getting back to your love, the whole of Westeros is in trouble. We need to put our duty first!" Arya snapped. Jon backed away from the map and looked at his younger sister with sorrow and guilt.

 _Duty_ , that is what this was. _Love is the death of duty_ , Jon knows this, but he can't seem to shake the feeling of need that has been building up since her death. "You're right. . . I'll go beyond the wall."

Silence filled the room once more. Everyone looked around at each other, unsure how the next few hours are going to pan out.

Davos let out a long sigh, "Well okay then, a trip back in time with many foes who would gladly see us dead, White Walkers marching upon the wall, an unknown threat, and the low survival rate. . . What could possibly go wrong?"


End file.
